


swan song

by astralelegies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, POV Victor Nikiforov, Pining, another plotless wonder, but I did promise I'd write this so here you go, really too much introspection if I'm being honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralelegies/pseuds/astralelegies
Summary: There could be no doubt as to who he was skating for. In the chill of the ice rink, Victor felt his cheeks grow warm.A companion piece of sorts to stranger in the shell of a lover, though the two can be read independently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> “Sneaking away from family events to write gay fanfiction” – a memoir, by me

Everyone had thought he was crazy for going to Japan. 

In the wake of the Hot Springs On Ice competition, Victor stood next to Yuuri on the podium as the skater announced his desire to try and win the next Grand Prix final. With him. 

This was it, he thought. This was the moment he became a coach for real. 

Yakov was still skeptical about the whole idea. More than skeptical, really, he was _furious_ , but Victor didn’t see why now was the time to start letting that bother him. _Look at me now_ , he wanted to say. _Look at what I can do._ But that would have been acting childish, and he was already accused of that more often than was probably dignified. 

So he threw himself into training with a gusto he hadn’t known was in him. Something had happened to him while he’d been working on the short programs for the competition, something he couldn’t really explain. He’d found his enthusiasm again, but it was more than that. 

For his part, Yuuri was a willing trainee. Aside from being late on his first day, he’d been virtually the model student, if that was even the right word, always ready to carry out whatever direction Victor assigned him. And he worked tirelessly—he had enough stamina that even Victor found himself struggling to keep up at times, not that he’d ever admit it. The boy had tremendous potential. It was exhilarating. 

They flew through the qualifying competition in Japan and turned their efforts to focus on the Cup of China. Yuuri’s announcement about his theme had stirred up a nice bit of buzz from the industry reporters. _I know what love is and am stronger for it_. 

It was probably Victor’s fault, at least in part. He had chosen Eros for Yuuri because he’d wanted to see what the skater could do with a theme that would challenge him. He had _not_ , contrary to some of the rumours he’d heard floating around, chosen it because he’d been interested in seeing Yuuri flaunt his sex appeal on the ice, because Victor was a _professional_ , even if he had to admit that he enjoyed watching the results. It was another way in which Yuuri had surprised him.

That seemed to be happening a lot, these days. The transformation he’d undergone in only a few short months, both as a performer and as a person, left Victor in a little bit of awe. When they’d first met, Yuuri had barely been able to form complete sentences around him. Now he was seducing his audiences and making his own demands. It was delightful, to say the least, and it also had Victor very worried.

He remembered what else Yuuri had said at the press conference. _Victor is the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold onto._ The words gave him a funny tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, even now, playing them over and over again in his head. It didn’t help that Victor was slowly realizing he wanted to hold onto Yuuri too. 

He’d never been a coach before. He had no idea what the proper procedure was for a coach in such a situation ( _if it truly is a_ situation, he scolded himself, _you’ve been like this too many times before, all infatuation with no sustenance_ ). And Victor had never really been one for procedure, but his lack of knowledge on the subject had him at a disadvantage. He was, in multiple senses of the phrase, flying by the seat of his pants. 

On the night he first slept with Yuuri he fell asleep too quickly. ( _Not slept with, slept in the same bed as, slept with would be silly._ ) He woke before the other boy and marvelled at the soft innocence of his expression, the calming rhythm of the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Victor felt a definite pang somewhere in the vicinity of his own chest cavity. He touched his fingers to Yuuri’s cheek almost curiously, brushing them briefly across his lips, and then tore his hand away. 

The sheets slid off him as he stood, padding his way quietly to the kitchen. The household was silent in the grey air of the early dawn—there was no sign of any of the Katsuki family, and Victor remembered Yuuri telling him something about an innkeeping conference in Fukuoka. He scanned the refrigerator for ingredients, and after a bit of searching settled on some eggs and vegetables. 

When the omelettes were nearly finished Yuuri stumbled into the room, yawning. His eyes went wide at the sight of Victor standing at the stove.

“Oh! You don’t have to—

Victor plopped a plate on the table in front of him. “Eat.” Yuuri looked like he was about to protest further, but his stomach growled at the smell of the cooking food, and he made no more argument. 

Over breakfast he was mostly silent, while Victor chatted on about new ideas he had for training, words of advice taken from past experiences for the upcoming Cup of China. He stopped partway through recounting a tale from his third Grand Prix, staring closely at his companion. 

“Is something on your mind this morning, Yuuri?”

“What?” He blinked, shaking his head. “Oh, um. No, I’m fine. I guess I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

“I’ll try not to be offended.”

Immediately a blush rose to Yuuri’s cheeks, and he waved his arms. “Oh no no no, not because of _you_ , because—

He stopped. “But you’re teasing me again, aren’t you?” 

“Caught in the act.” Victor had to grin. Yuuri was just so _cute_ when he was flustered, he could never resist an opportunity for some gentle ribbing. His only problem was that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to tell when he was being a tease and when he was actually serious. 

And he enjoyed teasing Yuuri, and if he perhaps enjoyed it too much, well. Who was there to blame him? 

But in spite of his reassurances, Yuuri was still more subdued than usual during practice, and Victor wondered if he should be concerned. There was just over a week left until the Cup of China, and he knew Yuuri was determined to do well so he could advance to the final round. It could be he was just stressed from all the pressure. But when Victor thought about their conversations over the past few days, he wasn’t so sure. 

_I have to know that I’m not just another way of surprising the world for you_ , Yuuri had said. Victor didn’t know how to tell him that the world didn’t seem to matter quite as much anymore, that ever since they’d met the usual order of his life had been thrown a little off-balance and he couldn’t find it in him to care. Yuuri moved like the music itself, and Victor was continually captivated by it. 

He thought about the qualifying competitions, when Yuuri had gone against his explicit instructions in favour of raising the stakes of his performance. It was reminiscent of himself at a younger age. Perhaps that too was a reason why Victor had taken an interest in him. ( _You’re being narcissistic_ , he admonished himself, even as another part of him insisted that seeing himself in Yuuri was all this interest amounted to.) 

Under normal circumstances, he might have tried to explain it all away with a kiss, but things didn’t quite work that way with Yuuri, which left him on unfamiliar ground. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk upsetting their current dynamic in case it interfered with Yuuri’s ability to perform his best in the Cup of China. There were too many factors at play for both of them now. 

At long last the day of their departure finally arrived. Victor wasn’t used to having so little space on an airplane; it made him antsy, but he couldn’t deny the secret swell of triumph he felt at the prospect of sitting in such close quarters with Yuuri for seven hours. Victor fell asleep with his head on his shoulder.

They hardly had time to check in at their hotel room before they were headed for the customary meet-and-greet with the press at the ice rink. Victor ducked into the bathroom and paused as he caught sight of himself in the glass. 

He glowered at the reflection of his receding hairline. Twenty-seven was really quite young, in the grand spectrum of the universe, certainly too young to be worried about going _bald_ , but in the world of competitive figure skating he was on his way to becoming an old man. There were many things Victor was prepared to deal with when it came to his future, but he wasn’t sure his vanity could take the loss of his hair, on top of everything. 

He tore himself away from the mirror and straightened his jacket before flicking off the light and heading out to meet the world. He turned on his sunniest smile for the cameras that were already flashing. He’d meant to search for Yuuri, but he was enveloped by a cloud of admirers, and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to preen and socialize. 

When he finally did catch sight of Yuuri, he seemed disgruntled, and Victor supposed he was to blame. 

“We have an interview,” Yuuri informed him. Victor mainly stood by while the skater answered questions, occasionally inserting a comment or a winning grin, until he began to feel hungry and eventually shooed the reporters away so he and Yuuri could get hot pot. It was meant to be a dinner for just the two of them, but then Phichit showed up, and soon there were plenty of competitors from the Cup of China scattered around. By this point Victor had downed what could possibly be considered too many drinks, and things maybe got a bit out of hand with the stripping. He texted Yurio the next morning to ask if he’d seen Phichit’s photo of the proceedings, to which the kid replied _why don’t you put it up on your wall and fucking frame it, it’ll last longer_. Victor shook his head, smiling a little in spite of himself. He had watched the events at Skate Canada with interest. Now, if all went well, the two Yuris would be up against each other once again in only a month. 

If all went well.

Yuuri was in a peculiar mood. Not necessarily _nervous_ peculiar, Victor could tell that much, but he was acting distinctly strange. When the time came for him to perform his program he grabbed Victor’s hand, pressing their faces so close together their noses were touching, and he had to stand still a few moments from the shock. 

“Don’t ever take your eyes off me.” 

On the ice, Yuuri licked his lips, and for Victor it was like the floor had been ripped out from under him. He could have staggered, but he was, as he had to keep insisting to everyone (not in the least to himself) a _professional_ , and knew better than to lose his composure during a competition. Then Yuuri landed his quadruple salchow, and Victor threw his hands up, shouting wildly along with the crowd. 

Well. To an extent. 

He thought he might have become more invested in this whole endeavour than he’d planned. Yuuri had intrigued him from the start, of course, but now he couldn’t deny how totally enthralled he was. Georgi might be the one about to perform the story of an enchantress, but it was Yuuri who held Victor captive under his spell. Step sequence, spins, jumps—all were executed flawlessly, and so beautifully it took Victor’s breath away. He knew every second of this program by heart, but something about it still seemed new. 

_Don’t ever take your eyes off me._

Victor smiled helplessly to himself. _How could I?_ he thought. _How could I have my eyes on anyone but you?_

If he thought flustered Yuuri was cute, then he was in for a heartache and a half with “ahead of everyone for the first time in his life” Yuuri, who was downright _adorable_. It was highly unfair, Victor moped, as he paced aimlessly around his hotel room that night. (Just across the hall, Yuuri was doing the same thing, although Victor couldn’t have known that.) 

His head was spinning with the impacts of several things that had hit him all at once. Item number one was the sudden, irrepressible knowledge that he might never be a figure skater again. 

Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He might never be a _competitive_ figure skater again, though he’d always assumed he would remain in the industry, just as other retirees had. Retire. The word left a funny taste in his mouth. 

It had been seeing Yuuri skate that had really cemented the notion. Not just Yuuri, everyone—and the audience and the athletes alike, begging for his return. If he was honest, he hadn’t really thought about what he would do once the season was over. He’d never been able to envision a life after he’d left the spotlight. 

And if he was telling the truth—the real truth, of the kind he didn’t really want to acknowledge—he was terrified. 

Everything he’d ever known was figure skating. He had grown up with the thundering of applause ringing in his ears, and now…

 _Twenty-seven is not old_ , he reminded himself, but the words carried a hollow tone every time he thought about the future in all its impending finality. He didn’t think he could stand to lose his edge. 

Coaching Yuuri was a consolation, or a point of hope, or perhaps neither, but it did make him happy. Which brought him to item number two, another thing he couldn’t really avoid anymore. 

He remembered an evening not so long ago now, a quiet place, the lamp set low, its faint golden glow casting a dim reflection on the window opposite, slightly out of place against the darkness outside. He was sitting with Yuuri while the two of them went over his costume for the free program. 

“I don’t want anything _too_ flashy…” Yuuri started. 

Victor tutted. “Then how are we going to make you stand out in a crowd?”

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck. “Standing out isn’t really my style.” 

“Maybe not,” said Victor, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Yuuri seemed to lean instinctively into the touch. “But you want your costume to reflect the essence of your personality while amplifying it so that it will enhance your performance.” 

“My personality isn’t as bold as some people’s,” said Yuuri, looking down at his hands. “Can a costume really show that?” 

“Of course,” Victor told him gently. “We’ll just make it…subtle.”

“Mm.” Yuuri closed his eyes. “I like the sound of that.”

Without really intending to Victor found his hands tangled through Yuuri’s hair. He began to brush through it, slowly and softly, letting his fingers work their way through the thick black strands, lightly massaging Yuuri’s scalp. 

“You have such beautiful hair.”

Yuuri swallowed. “Y—you think so?”

“I do. I think you should wear it back for the competition.”

“Like I did with Hot Springs on Ice?”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Victor paused, considering him thoughtfully. “Yuuri, do you have a comb?”

“Um, yes. Would you like me to get it?”

“Yes. And get some gel, while you’re at it.”

Yuuri jumped up and ran off, returning a few moments later with the objects in question. Victor took the comb, setting the bottle of hair product aside for the moment, and motioned for Yuuri to sit in front of him. 

“I tried to do my hair this way once,” he said as he resumed his brushing. 

Yuuri’s mouth gave the hint of a smirk. “I’m sure that was a sight.”

“It definitely wasn’t one of my finer moments. I think Yakov threatened to quit on the spot if I didn’t change it back.”

“Was that after you cut your hair, or before?” 

“After,” Victor said. “Which wasn’t even that long ago, now that I think about it. God, it feels like a lifetime.” 

Yuuri nodded. “I can understand that. Sometimes the past seems so far removed from everything that’s happening now. But then other days I’ll be in the middle of practice and it’ll just hit me. I’ll wonder where all the years went.” 

“Do you know what you’re doing next season, Yuuri?”

He sucked in a breath, letting it out on a little sigh. 

“No,” he said, and paused. “I’ve decided to focus on the present.”

“A wise choice.”

They were silent as Victor finished styling his hair. He put a hand under Yuuri’s chin, guiding his attention to the mirror across from them. 

“There. Do you like it?”

Yuuri put a hand to his cheek, tentative, gazing at himself. 

“I look like a different person.” 

“Nonsense,” said Victor. “You still look just like my Yuuri.” 

“ _Your_ Yuuri?”

That was definitely a smirk he had on now. Victor felt something flutter up in his stomach. 

“You’re my trainee, aren’t you? And what a cute one at that.” He ducked forward, planting a light kiss where Yuuri’s forehead met his hairline. 

“Still teasing me,” the boy murmured, eyes closed again. 

“Would you expect anything less?”

Standing alone in his hotel room and thinking about that night, Victor felt a kind of ache he knew would not be solved by a round of vodka or a particularly rigorous practice session. He had to concede, now, that it wasn’t just teasing. Victor had been flirting heavily with Yuuri practically nonstop, and he thought Yuuri knew it, too, but some part of him was too scared or stubborn to admit it. Maybe that was changing. Still, at times Victor found his reticence unnerving—it was so unlike his own painfully open state of being. 

So in the end neither coach nor competitor found much in the way of sleep. _He aught to be better at hiding it_ , Victor frowned, agitated and uncertain of the reason why. _Maybe that’s something else I should teach him._

He had told Victor to be there for him. _Stand by me_ , like Stay Close to Me, the song that had brought them together, the song that had won Victor his fifth Grand Prix gold, that Yuuri had lost to. And Victor wasn’t used to losing, but when Yuuri took the ice to perform his free program he knew that he had failed him earlier. He couldn’t make that mistake again. 

And yet…

 _He doesn’t look so defeated anymore_ , Victor realized. _Not in the way he did earlier._ He felt another surge of guilt for making Yuuri cry, but he forced it back to focus on the performance. Yuuri was the most relaxed Victor had ever seen him, which didn’t seem right but here he was. There was a newfound determination to his movements, something close to what had come over him during the short program yesterday, but smoother and softer, unbound. He skated with all the grace and gentility of a dancer, of a bird soaring high in the sky above. 

A quadruple flip. There could be no doubt as to who he was skating for. In the chill of the ice rink, Victor felt his cheeks grow warm. He let out a soft breath, the puff of air ghosting out ahead of him in a white, steamy cloud. 

_There he goes, knocking me off-balance again._

And Victor, what he had always wanted more than anything was to surprise the world, to keep them all at the edge of their seats and never let them forget him, but now there was just one person he wanted to surprise above all the others.

 _And why not?_ he thought. Half the world probably already thought they were sleeping together. It would’ve been easy to blame Phichit’s Instagram for that, but Victor suspected it was his own actions more than anything else that really cemented their beliefs. He couldn’t help being effusive with his physical affections, and he didn’t want to, but he did want Yuuri to know that whatever they’d held so carefully between them meant something to him after all. 

“Victor! I did great, right?”

Victor didn’t speak; he had always been better at actions than words. Instead he opened his arms to Yuuri. _And so_ , he thought, _perhaps it’s finally time for me to act._

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I ~might~ have a terrible high school AU on the way also, so stay tuned. I'll likely be posting updates on my tumblr, which can be found [here](http://creedoftheseamstress.tumblr.com)


End file.
